


Where Roses Bloom

by MissMonsters2



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Romance, soft angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:29:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22703983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMonsters2/pseuds/MissMonsters2
Summary: [From Tumblr]Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader/OFCPrompt: I’ll keep you warm. Hold me closer
Relationships: Natasha Romanov (Marvel) & Reader, Natasha Romanov (Marvel)/Reader
Kudos: 132
Collections: Natasha Romanoff Reader Inserts





	Where Roses Bloom

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Thank you for sending this in. This was pretty gay wasn’t it
> 
> Warnings: soff

You’ve always liked summer. You loved the warm breeze on your skin, the smell of fresh flowers, and clear skies. 

There’s something about the long days and short nights that puts you at ease.

“Hey,” A voice from behind comes before they sit down.

You look slight up to see Natasha settling next to you, hanging her feet off the ledge and slightly dipping into the lake.

“Everyone’s looking for you, lunch is going to be served soon,” Natasha says softly as she gazes onto your face. You’re looking out onto the lake, spots of sunlight hitting the water, and the only ripples created by your foot dipping in and out.

“Okay,” you say after a moment, “what are we eating?”

“Hm, I think Steve insisted on grilling steaks, and Tony is goofing around and trying to use his suit to cook everything. It’s like Kitchen Nightmares in there.”

You chuckle, “Who’s Gordon Ramsay?”

“Believe it or not, Clint,” Natasha smirks and offers her hand to you to take, and pulls you up.

Natasha continues to hold your hand as you tilt your head with the image in your mind of Clint and Gordon Ramsay’s face merging together.

The seven of you have saved the world from peril time and time again. This particular villain was a tough one, and no one came back unscathed. 

Pepper had forced the seven of you to take a break because it’s not like the world could end back to back (though, you subtly knocked on wood when she said that). So, she had Tony ship the 7 of them out to his lakehouse on some unmarked land. 

It was quiet.

Peaceful, like a glimpse of a life all of them secretly yearn for. 

You can’t help but notice how Natasha’s hand feels warm, that _she’s_ a warm person.

Lunch is an interesting affair, and you think most of it ended up on Tony more than being eaten. 

Now everyone’s in the living room, and you’re watching Steve figure out a Wii remote and bouncing back and forth with the body senor.

You can’t help but think that you’re all pretending that the mission didn’t affect them. 

Like Tony almost being unable to save Pepper.

Like Steve losing civilians in his care.

Like Natasha didn’t watch you die in front of her. 

Coming back was something you couldn’t even explain. 

One moment, you were being hurdled off a cliff, breaking through the ice at the bottom and into the ocean. Broken bones and the cold preventing you from being able to swim back up. Natasha dived in after you, pulling you out onto the freezing ice. 

It was so _cold_. 

You could barely even hear Natasha telling you to hang on, feeling warm drops of her tears hitting your face. 

And when everything was over, all you remembered was waking up in a SHIELD’s hospital, and everyone rushing to hug you in relief while explaining about some alien ritual. 

“Steve has no rhythm,” Natasha says quietly next to you, grabbing your hand subtly and hiding it behind your backs. 

You grin, “I think he’s just stiff. Give him a couple days playing Just Dance, and he could be on So You Think You Can Dance.”

“Wouldn’t that be quite the season?” Natasha laughs, and Steve looks over at the two of you, squinting his eyes in suspicion.

You stick your tongue out at him, only spurring him on to come to pull you out to play Just Dance with him (which you do absolutely destroy him at with no mercy).

The day continues on with activities here and there, everyone forcing themselves to relax and unhunch their shoulders.

It’s fairly rambunctious with the boys trying to out-compete each other until they manage to tire themselves out late in the evening, everyone voting for a movie to end the night. 

You and Clint get the popcorn, coming back to see that Natasha has saved you a spot, and you know it’s for you because she legitimately kicked Clint out of the seat with her foot when he tried to sit down.

You roll your eyes playfully at her before taking a seat, sinking in and sliding until your hip touches her hip, arms pressed against one another, and you get that feeling of _warmth_ again.

The movie is playing, some action movie that everyone likes to pick apart for being unrealistic, but you’re not really paying attention.

You think about the roses you saw growing along the driveway outside, and think about how beautiful they were. 

You think about Natasha, but you can’t just think one single thing about her.

You think about how you’ve slowly grown closer to her over the time you’ve spent with her. You think about how she’s wonderful and open and _warm_.

You think about the grief on her face as you died in her arms, and her clenched jaw, and glossy eyes when you woke up in the hospital.

You think about how the words, ‘I love you,’ grow within you but stop short of blooming. 

Because you and Natasha are both people who actually might be over adept at saying, “I love you,” without actually saying it.

Like right now, with Natasha holding your hand, thumb pressing against the back of your hand, hidden from anyone to see, might just be another way of saying it. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Bedtime comes faster than you want it to. Everyone retires to their room, and you find yourself lying in bed, staring at the ceiling.

You had fallen asleep briefly, but woke up from a nightmare and been chilled ever since.

You don’t talk about it to anyone, what you’ve been dealing with ever since coming back.

There’s always a chill that follows you. You’re always cold, even when sitting out in the blazing sun. Sometimes it feels like water is filling up your lungs when you’re lying down and trying to sleep. 

But you’re an Avenger, so you brave it out, lying alone in your own bed.

But it’s not quite the same in this lakehouse. It’s not your room and not your bed. You don’t hear the drops of water occasionally hitting the sink like you do in your room. 

You bite your lip as you sit up and look at your door. 

You crave it now more than ever.

It’s something that inflamed in you, relentlessly fighting its way out until you couldn’t resist anymore.

And so, you got out of bed, snuck quietly out to the room down the hall.

You open the door quietly, but you know Natasha already knows it’s you.

Still, she looks groggy as she sits up to see you. She presses her palm to her eye, ruffling her hair as she gives you a small smile.

“Hey,” she rasps, and you lick your lips. 

Natasha opens her covers for you, and you think about how ridiculously easy it is to slide in next to her and let her place the covers over your shoulder.

The time is both too early and too late to be up, but you notice that Natasha’s room has a giant window for a wall, and you get a view of the garden outside.

Roses are blooming there too.

Your arms slide around her waist, placed just below her back, while Natasha puts one arm over you, her other arm on her pillow bent as she rests her head on it.

She doesn’t say anything, and it makes you relax more in her arms. 

“Can we just talk?” You say, and she nods, rubbing circles on your back.

And Natasha launches off about her favorite vodka and how it’s made, what tastes good with vodka, and how weirdly hard it is to get it.

Honestly, the topic is random, and you don’t care much about drinking, but the rhythm in Natasha’s voice and the warmth surrounding you start to soothe you. Your face is partially hidden, pressed to her chest as you listen to the reassuring sound of her heartbeat.

And when you look past her, you see the roses again. You think about how sometimes it feels Natasha words plant seeds in you, and her touches are just shy of making flowers bloom until you’ve become a garden.

And when all the words come to an end, you still hang onto the sound of Natasha’s heartbeat in the silence.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Natasha asks gently, using her fingers to comb through your hair, and giving you goosebumps.

“I…” You start to say but then pause. Natasha doesn’t say anything and pats your head as if to say you don’t explain anything to her.

But you think about the roses blooming in your chest, and you bite your lip.

“It’s cold,” you say at first, unsure of what else to say. 

“…Do you need more blankets?” Natasha says just as hesitantly.

“No, it’s always cold… _I’m_ always cold,” you mumble, and Natasha gets it right away because it seems to be always reading between the lines with the two of you. 

And it’s everything shifts in Natasha because it’s the only thing you’ve ever shared about it since coming back.

Natasha pulls you closer, hand sneaking under your shirt boldly as she rests her arm on your bare back, fingers just right under your shoulder blade.

 **“I’ll keep you warm,”** she whispers, her nose dragging across your face as her lips brush against yours, **“Hold me closer.”**

And you think perhaps in her warmth, that’s where roses bloom.


End file.
